


Johnlock - For Better or Worst

by astudyin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: /might/ do some future smut, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Feels, M/M, OTP Feels, Quite graphic PTSD, Should I carry this on or? idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyin221b/pseuds/astudyin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is haunted by the past. While visiting back to 221b Baker Street, after 2 years away from London with his new girlfriend Mary - escaping all reminders of his friend and true lover, he sees the full effect of Sherlock's death on the the people that loved him most. Damaged and confused about the meaning of /his/ death, all hopes of him ever coming back, seems like a distant memory and all the faith his friends once had in him is now lost in the busy and rushed London lifestyle. When all hope seems to be lost, everything changes. For the better, and for the worst</p>
            </blockquote>





	Johnlock - For Better or Worst

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I've always used this site and now I'm taking a shot at writing something. I could regret this very soon. If someone can give me a few tips and guides on how to actually write good fanfiction, I will love you forever ^.^. Also, this is my first time writing anything like this so go easy on me :3 P.S. this chapter is a little bit emotional near the end and has talks of quite severe PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. Its was hard for me to write so it could be hard to read for some people

John stared into the morning fog hovering over the once lively street he knew oh so well. His eyes glazed over in memory and hurt that the brick walls and gated city held."Oi wake up! 8 quid mate... c'mon! Some of us have lives y'know!" pushed the taxi driver. John shot him a look of disgust and slowly handed him the crinkled 10 pound note in his jeans."Keep the change" John muttered, almost inaudibly."Should hope so..." grumbled the taxi driver as he quickly sped up the rest of Baker Street.

John stood up straight, regained his stiff upper-lip and turned around to face the black door in his infamous military fashion. As he gazed up at the glowing golden letters spelling out '221b' a sudden pain shot through his heart. Oh, the memories that this door has witnessed, when himself and Sherlock first saw the flat they would soon share, when solving their first shared case and coming through the door panting, gasping for air, not caring if they where his last because they would be breaths shared with the person he cared about most in the world. No, he mustn't think about him. He's gone now.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled. Every step made towards the flat made his legs weak at the knees. But this is something he must do. Besides, it's been two years since he'd seen Mrs. Hudson and it would break her heart to not see at least one of the 'Baker Street Boys' again before she dies.

John knocked on the door. No answer. John knocked again with more force. *bang* *bang* *ba-* The door slowly creaked on its rusted, unoiled hinges. Stood before John was not Mrs Hidson. Not the old, warm, welcoming Mrs Hudson. But a cold, lonely, wreaked woman stuck in this familiar body. Her eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. It was like her eyes where candles and John had the flame to make them glow again. But this glow was short lived. It was blown out by the harsh winds of reality and the remembrance of how long they had both left.

"T-two years, John. Two." She quivered like these words where in her last dying moments.John looked down at his over polished, leather shoes, avoiding the eye contact of an old friend.   
"I- I know and I'm sorry. I've just been busy"   
"Well without him your not!" Mrs Hudson quickly snapped. John quickly looked up in shock and stared at her wide eyes. Mrs Hudson's realised his disgust and her confidence quickly shattered before John as she started to sob uncontrollably into the door frame and the sleeve of her moth eaten cardigan.  
"Oh my goodness. I'm- I'm- I'm- so so sorry John. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

With every 'I'm sorry' that she almost screamed, the damaged woman, the one who was once filled with such love and pride, started to bang her head aggressively on the corner of the door frame, making it slowly graze and bleed against the hard wood. John notices and swiftly grabbed her face, making her immediately freeze in fear of judgement. John examined her blooded forehead that she inflicted apon herself then looked into her bloodshot, tearful eyes. She collapsed on the floor, close to unconsciousness.

He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have left her to morn Sherlock by herself. He should have seen her, or phoned her, orsomething. But he didn't. He left her to develop a pain so harsh she only feels one emotion, sadness and physical torture. 

(Should I carry this on? Tell me what you think of how to improve!)


End file.
